When Tomorrow is a Fixed Point
by Amilyn
Summary: Three Ways 9/11 Could Have Happened in Gary Hobson's World, written for akamarykate in Yuletide 2014, warnings for 9/11 discussion.
1. Home Fires

1. Home Fires

Gary paused, fingertips on the receiver. She'd worry either way. He grabbed it, dumped in coins, and dialed.

"McGinty's Bar."

He listened to the familiar bustle and clang of customers and kitchen workers as he took a deep breath.

"Hello?" A slight pause. "Gary, is that you?"

"Hey, Marissa."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He forced himself to smile. She could always hear if he was smiling. "Nothing's wrong."

"Gary." That warning edge. She could hear when he fake-smiled now. Great.

"Look, Marissa. Nothing's wrong. It's just...I've gotta take a quick trip, and I didn't want you to worry."

"All right. Where are you going?"

"Boston. I was just going to go and be back, but I had to use the bar account to buy a last minute ticket."

"Gar-"

"Now, don't worry, Marissa. I'll be home tomorrow. Everything's fine. But, well, they're calling my flight, so, I gotta go. See you soon." He set the phone down quickly and glanced at the paper. Still that horrifying specter: smoke, flame, and death. He hadn't thought newspapers still printed an Extra Edition ever. He stuffed it into his jacket pocket and got in line.

After more than two hours sitting on the tarmac, they were off the malfunctioning jet, and he was in line again. The airline personnel were trying their best to maintain their cool as dozens of passengers demanded alternate routes to Boston, only to be told that the last flights were full or had left.

Too many people choosing standby. It was not gonna happen that way. He checked the paper, then his watch, then ran through the terminal.

Not enough of the others had given up, and the rental car desk was empty. Gary shifted from foot to foot as the man dithered through the process, mustache twitching as he muttered his way through the computer fields.

"In a hurry, eh?"

"You could say that." Gary resisted the urge to look at the paper. He hadn't done anything. It wouldn't have changed.

"Something special to do?" The man licked a pudgy finger, turned the page, initialed the copy, and repeated it.

"Um, yeah."

"Driving straight through, then."

"Yeah." Gary flexed his fingers.

"Wedding."

"Or funeral, if I don't get there." He grabbed the key that was finally offered. He took two steps then turned back.

"Out the door, to the left, and they'll be bringing it up," the man rumbled. "Should get you in around 9:30 a.m. local time. Drive safe!"

Two and a half hours too late, Gary thought. Safe would happen when nothing was on the line. Tonight was for speeding.

Gary was out of Chicago in record time, and the Skyway was clear sailing, even without a working radio. He patted the paper, upside down on the seat beside him. They were going to make it.

The car jerked to the side. Gary gripped the wheel, but the alignment pulled hard to the right. The rear fish-tailed slightly. Gary let off the gas, but the car slid, and no turning into the skid helped.

Before he could compensate, Gary was in the ditch, the car buried nose-first in mud.

"Dammit!" He slammed a palm into the steering wheel. How was he going to get the car out? And would it even drive if he could?

Heart pounding, he grabbed the paper. No change.

He tucked it into his pocket and threw the door open. The front tire on the passenger side was flat, the rear tire chewed into ribbons. Stupid rental. He growled and clambered back up the embankment, muddying his knees on the way.

Hitchhike. He'd hitchhike. There had to be a way.

He brushed twigs out of his hair and started waving at the cars speeding by, but they kept going like he was invisible. Twenty minutes of walking backwards later-he just needed a duffel over his shoulder and he'd look like David Banner after a Hulk-out-and he saw the first houses of a small subdivision just over the rise of the land. He waved to the next car and it sped past, spattering his pants with lime-water.

Stupid paper.

Gary turned and stared at the nearby houses. Short fence. That was manageable.

He skidded down the bank again and climbed up the other side, easily hopping the chain-link fence at the top.

The backyard was filled with toys and, off to the side, a green mountain bike with a child seat on the back. Gary tucked two hundred fifty dollars in cash into the little pink helmet, set the helmet on the ground, and lifted the bike over the fence. He glanced around him, hopped on, and rode.

At the corner to the exit of the subdivision, Cat meowed and ran across the street.

Gary followed. It was a highway with precious little shoulder and empty fields spreading out from him, but it headed east, and he couldn't go back on the interstate on a bicycle. If he got to the next real town, maybe he could find another rental car.

He pedaled faster, faster, ignoring the burn in his thighs and his lungs, just watching the road in front of him. The sun had long since set and the Indiana countryside looked beautiful and spooky by moonlight. Gary knew if he slowed down, he'd be cold. His knuckles and ears knew it was chilly.

When he looked at his watch, it was 1 a.m., and he hadn't seen a single town.

He kept riding.

The bike seat tried to press through his glutes and into his bones.

Everything hurt.

He saw lights up ahead and pedaled faster.

As he passed the welcome sign, Cat ran across the road. Gary swerved to avoid the orange blur, squeezing the brakes. Nothing happened. He squeezed harder. His tire hit a rock and he went down sideways, sliding across his shoulder and landing face-to-face with Cat.

Cat meowed.

Gary growled, reaching for Cat's neck, then dropping his head to the gravel.

"What? What do you WANT from me? There's no time left. I can't get there." He looked at his watch again. It the middle of the night and he hadn't made it out of Indiana. He rubbed his shoulder and looked up at the town's welcome sign.

"Welcome to Hickory, Indiana." Of course. He glared at Cat.

"Oh, don't look so pleased with yourself."

He hadn't biked these streets at night since he was sixteen, but he followed them unerringly and let himself in the front door with the key under the potted plant.

When his folks came downstairs he shushed their flurry of questions.

"Mom. Dad. It's going to be a bad day. There's nothing I can do, so I'm going to spend it here. With you."

He set the paper on the counter, showing the burning skyscrapers bellowing black smoke. He cleared his throat. "Too many of the folks in those buildings won't get to spend another day with their families. So...I'm here now."

~o~

~o~


	2. One-Way Ticket

2. One-Way Ticket

Feet pounded on the stairs, chased by shouts.

"Hobson!"

Gary skidded to a stop. "Marissa! What're you doing here so early?"

Marissa frowned. "We've got deliveries and I figured that with Toni-"

The second set of footsteps stopped and Gary squeaked slightly. Toni must have grabbed him. Experience had taught Marissa that sometimes touch was the only way to break through Gary's intense focus. And stubbornness.

"HOBSON! Show it to me."

"No."

"Show. Me. Your. Paper."

It fluttered as Gary clutched it to him. "No!"

"Hobson, do I need to remind you that I'm trained in hand-to-hand combat?"

"No. I remember that well enough from last ni-" He cut himself off.

Marissa bit her lips, tucking that personal tidbit away for later.

Gary stammered worse when he was embarrassed. "Anyway. I, well, I just came down for some coffee. Marissa here makes the best-"

"Cut the crap, Hobson. I saw your face. Something has you totally spooked, and you are not leaving me out of this one."

"Gary?" Marissa stood. Tension crackled in the room. Gary was scared. Terrified. Maybe angry. She softened her voice. "Gary, what is it?"

"I- I've gotta-"

Marissa willed Toni to stay quiet. Gary might cave if they just waited.

There was a sudden scuffle and the bar vibrated. Gary grunted. The paper crumpled. Marissa sighed. At least Toni was as stubborn as Gary.

"Oh my God," Toni breathed.

Marissa had never heard Antonia Brigatti sound rattled. Not like that. "Toni? What is it?"

"Now you see why I gotta go and do...something."

"Do what? Gary, these planes are taking off in half an hour. From Boston."

"Planes?" Marissa's heartrate sped up.

"-This is happening and-"

"All right, you two. I know it's bad. Spill."

Gary's feet stuck to the floor as he padded toward her. Typical. He was talking about heading to Boston and didn't even have shoes on. He edged toward her and put his hands on her shoulders, alternating between squeezing gently and stroking them. Not bad, then. Catastrophic.

"Marissa, there are planes taking off from Boston in thirty minutes. They're going to be hijacked." He swallowed.

Okay, a hijacking. These things happen.

Gary squeezed tighter. "Marissa, they're going to fly the planes into the World Trade Center towers and...and...the towers are going to fall. There are two other planes too, one going into the Pentagon, and one in Pennsylvania. Thousands of people are going to die. I have to-"

"Do what, Hobson?" Toni's voice was actually shrill. "No one can get to Boston from Chicago in thirty minutes."

Gary let go and turned. "Whaddya want me to do? Just sit here and watch it on the news!?"

"You mean like any normal person? You don't get to be the big hero today, Hobson. You just get to see it all unfold, helplessly, just like anyone else."

"Oh, there it is again. You hate this damned paper more than I do!"

"Of course I do! I'm a _cop_ and I don't get these kinds of leads. You...you're...no one, and you get a chance to do what I swore my life to doing...so, now, when it matters most...you get to be just like me." She stomped away, feet on the stairs like gunfire.

Marissa took a deep breath, swallowing the wish to comment on how these two emotionally-stunted people who lash out when they're angry or frustrated, both deserve each other and should probably take a breather. She reached out and Gary was still near enough to touch his arm.

She kept her voice soft although her heart raced. "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do, Marissa? I can't...I can't do nothing. I've got to call. I've got help or do...something. What can I do?"

"How long do you have?"

"Just over an hour...no. Wait. Eastern time. Marissa, the first plane is taking off in 15 minutes!"

Gary grabbed the phone and jabbed three numbers. "Yes, I, um, need the number for Logan International Airport. Yes, in Boston. Yes, right away!"

Marissa laid a hand on Gary's arm. Her chest was hollow. She squeezed his arm. They could do something. They had to be able to. The paper wouldn't tell them if there wasn't something they could do.

"Hello? Hello! Um, yeah. There's a flight about to take of from, um, American. American Airlines Flight 11. And, um, my aunt is on the plane. She's, um, really sick, but what she doesn't know is that she forgot her medication." Gary paused. "Yes. Her medication. Well, yes, she could get more when she lands in L.A., but, you see, it's seizure medication, and, um, I'm afraid she's going to have a seizure and, well, wouldn't that make the flight-yes, I'll wait." Gary shifted so he was holding her hand, fingers interlaced. He tapped their hands on the table. "They're transferring me to the gate."

Marissa held her breath.

"Whaddaya mean they've already locked up? I know they're about to take off, but you've gotta understand-" Gary swallowed. "Her name? Her name is ah, my aunt Nancy. Nancy Johnson."

Marissa could hear the voice on the line faintly. "Sir, there is no such person mentioned on the flight manifest. Maybe she missed the flight or changed it. I'm sure everything will be all right."

"No, it won't! The plane is gonna crash!" Gary paused and Marissa held on tight. "They hung up on me."

There was silence as McGinty's seemed to close in around them, airless.

Feet pounded on the stairs.

"Brigatti." Gary said cautiously.

"I called," she said. "I tried to call. My old friends in the U.S. Marshalls...I tried to call. But no one is on those flights. There...there's no one. I couldn't get to anyone." She sniffed and covered her mouth with a hand, blowing through it. "I...I couldn't do anything."

Marissa held out a hand. There had to be something.

"Gary, you said there was more than one plane, right? Maybe we can't stop this first one. Maybe we can stop the next one. Maybe we can get word to the pilots before the hijacking happens. When does the next flight leave?"

"7:15 our time."

Marissa checked her watch. "All right. We have just over twenty minutes to do...something. There are three of us. We have phones."

"She's right." Toni huffed a breath. "We won't stop. If they won't stop, we won't stop till there's nothing left to do."

"This time we need names. We'll call the other airports too..."

~o~

The sign they'd hung on the door simply said, "Closed. Go be with your loved ones."

Marissa leaned against Gary's shoulder, eyes closed, as the newscasters droned on.

"Oh, my God," Toni breathed from Gary's other side.

Marissa jerked her head up, squeezing Gary's arm.

"The other tower is falling," Gary choked.

The blast from the television was drowned out by a blast at the door. Metal on wood and glass and metal. Marissa ducked as shards flew and scattered around her.

Then there were voices, deep, ragged, overlapping as they shouted.

"Nobody move!"

"Get down!"

"Keep your hands where I can see them!"

Gary and Toni both tried to say something but were shoved into the bar even as Marissa's head was shoved into the wood. A strong forearm pressed against the back of her neck. It was hard to breathe.

"This is the phone, boss!"

Hands gathered hers, cuffing them.

"You're under arrest for conspiracy to attack the United States."

Marissa could no longer hear words, just the humming, angry bustle and jolt of every stool and table, the sharp cries around her, and the newscasters repeating themselves behind her.

When she leaned from side to side, reaching out with shaking, cuffed hands for Gary in the official vehicle, he was not there.

~o~

~o~


	3. We'll Be Together

3. We'll Be Together

The water pattered at my scalp and back, warm and refreshing. Hobson's shower with its awesome water pressure was exactly what I needed after yesterday. Crappy informant. Crappy failed bust.

At least today was my day off.

I smoothed the cucumber-melon body wash along my arms and torso, breathing deeply. So soothing.

"Brigatti!"

So much for soothing.

Hobson could wait.

"TONI!"

Or maybe he couldn't. "Hobson, I'm in the shower," I shouted. "You know, your amazing shower? The one you just told me to relax in?"

"What?" He poked his head in the door and immediately covered his eyes. "Sorry. Sorry!"

"Hobson, we're sleeping together. You're allowed to look."

He peered through his fingers, smiling wryly. If he were capable of it, I would have thought one corner of his mouth had a slightly feral curl. "Oh, I do enjoy that." He took in the view for a second.

My cheeks pinked from more than the water. I would never understand why the attention of this man in his stupid plaid shirt was so captivating. It was infuriating. There was only one way to deal with him. "Did you need something, Hobson?"

"Right. My paper-"

"Of course."

"Have you seen my paper?"

"I'm in the _shower_, Hobson. Do you see your paper here?"

"Right." He smiled, half annoyed, half sheepish, all adorable, then left.

"Adorable," I muttered. "I'm with someone who's 'adorable.' What the hell is wrong with me?"

I finished my shower, toweled off and smoothed on lotion, but Gary was nowhere to be seen. I shrugged and picked out a pair of light capris and a fitted, short-sleeved knit top. It was supposed to be warm today and cute, flat sandals were a nice change from practical work shoes.

"Hobson?" I called down the stairs, pinning back my hair as I went. "Gary?"

"Well, maybe the paper wants you to have a nice day with Toni," Marissa was saying. "Maybe that's why it came here, so you wouldn't get caught up."

Hobson and that paper.

"But there has to be more going on than nice weather!"

"What's up, Hobson? Don't wanna spend a nice day with me?"

Marissa grinned.

"No-"

"So you don't wanna spend a nice day with me?" She raised an eyebrow. Hobson was even more adorable when he squirmed.

"It's not that, it's just."

"Gary," Marissa said, "just go out to the lakefront. Take a walk. Do something _calm_ for a change. If something were going to happen, the paper would say so."

Gary made a sound like a growling chuckle. Even that was adorable, God help me.

"All right." Hobson narrowed his eyes at the paper. It was as much warning as suspicion. "I'll just...go. Upstairs. And change." He forced a smile at Toni. "You decide what you want to do."

I watched him ascend the stairs. The view was definitely nice.

Marissa patted a bar stool next to her.

"I don't know if Gary's explained the paper."

I almost snorted. How embarrassing.

"I didn't think so." Marissa shook her head. I wondered how long she'd known Hobson.

"But I figured it out."

"You did?"

"Well, I am a police detective...and former U.S. Marshall. Give me a little credit, girlfriend. Gary's newspaper...somehow it tells him...things that need to be taken care of."

"Hmmm." Marissa sipped her coffee.

"And that stupid cat is somehow involved."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. After we started seeing each other...the cat wasn't gone, but I've stopped sneezing. Something's always been...odd about that cat." I paused. "And odd about Hobson, too, but, well, it keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

Marissa grinned over her coffee cup. "Certainly kept you interested long enough to figure out what a good guy Gary is."

I laughed. That was true. If he hadn't been so mysterious, I'd have dismissed "adorable" in a hot minute. I got up, grabbed two cups, and poured coffee. "Can I warm yours up, Marissa?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Gary's urgency was what did it, you know. He was so earnest, so agitated if he couldn't get to something. At first I thought he was just nuts...but once I realized he wasn't, well, it had to be something important. Really, really important. And that was when I realized how alike we are. This paper, it's like he's a cop, just with a different boss."

"Well, Brigatti-Toni," he said from right next to me, "sounds like you don't think we're so different."

I jumped so hard I spilled my coffee all over the bar. "You," I growled, grabbing napkins as Marissa passed me a cloth. I held up the paper. "Can't let your precious paper get..." I blinked. The paper had changed. No more sunny beach scene, instead there was a building on fire. "Oh my God." I knew it changed. I knew it. I'd seen his face when the paper had changed. I'd just never seen it myself. I couldn't catch my breath and fell back onto the stool. "Oh my God."

"Toni? What's wrong?"

"What is it?"

They were both asking, and I could only point.

"Marissa, turn on the TV," Gary said quietly.

Stupid morning news shows blared with perky blondes and tanned frat boys, grinning their caffeinated inanities. It lasted only seconds before they cut away.

Everything went silent and I stared. I don't know how long my heart was still, how long I didn't breathe, only that suddenly Marissa grabbed my hand and was holding on tight and I was crying.

I never cry.

I shook myself.

"I've gotta get to work."

Gary had sunk onto the stool beside me. He pointed at the paper. The picture now showed two burning towers. "Toni, there's nothing here for Chicago."

I flipped through the paper, searching. He was right, but I snapped at him anyway. "Yeah, well, five minutes ago, there was nothing here for anywhere!" I was shaking and hating myself for it. Marissa was like a rock. Maybe this was why Gary depended on her.

He was shaking too. "Toni, neither of us can do anything. It's what we do, but on the day it matters most, and...there's nothing. Stay with me? Please?"

I nodded slowly.

"When there's something we can do, we'll know," Marissa said quietly.

Gary called his parents and reassured them that he was fine, that Chicago was fine. He squirmed a little as he said, "I love you too, Mom."

I flipped a page of the paper. "Oh my God. The buildings are going to fall down. I have to call my Nonna," I blurted. "She lives all alone. I have to-"

Gary set the phone in front of me. I dialed mechanically. It was the first phone number I'd ever memorized.

"Nonna?"

"Tonina! Tell me you are safe, Tonina."

I laughed. "I'm in Chicago, Nonna. Are _you_ safe?"

"All the way across the river in the Bronx? Of course I am. No one will come to our neighborhood. There is nothing worth it. Already my neighbors have checked on me."

I could not stop crying, but I was laughing too. "I love you, Nonna. Just...stay inside, okay?"

"Of course, my Tonina, but you stay safe as well. My beautiful police granddaughter. Don't worry for me. I am fine. Ti amo, my dear."

"Ti amo, Nonna."

Gary rubbed a hand across my back, and I wiped my face and took a deep breath.

The television commentators grasped for words, repeating the same things, re-playing the same footage, talking to eyewitnesses. There was nothing they could say, and I could hear it in their voices.

After the second tower hit pancaked into dust, I flipped through the paper again. Something could still happen in Chicago.

The articles only talked about New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania. Brief mentions were made of safety measures taken in other areas, but they were listed as cautionary only, ultimately unneeded. A couple of dozen pages of horrific photos in, one tiny image caught my eye.

"Gary."

"Toni, what is it?" Marissa squeezed my hand. She hadn't let go all that time.

"Gary...are there papers in other cities? Papers like yours?"

"Yeah, why?"

I pointed.

"Lorena Ramos." Gary cleared his throat. "Uh, 'Ramos was last seen in the South Tower, directing people toward the northwest corner Stairwell A. Survivors say her certainty and urgency kept them moving toward safety.' She's...there's a picture here, Marissa. Of her and her cat."

Marissa's tears were silent, but she smiled. "The paper takes care of what it can, Gary."

I bit my lip, determined not to cry again.

The newscasters paused, listening to their headsets. "This just in. Chicago PD reports that the Sears Tower has been evacuated. The FAA has grounded all flights until at least noon tomorrow. Both Midway and O'Hare are closed until further notice."

"What about all the people there?" Marissa asked.

"It'll probably be just like in a blizzard or weather event. They'll break out all the cots and turn it into a campground."

"Well, that's just not okay."

"What else do you want them to do, Gary?" Marissa asked.

"I...I..."

"This is what we can do," I said. "Marissa, you know a bunch of other restaurant owners, right?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll get in touch, and we'll reach out. We'll make sure people aren't alone."

"Yeah." Gary sat up straight for the first time since we'd turned the TV on. He leaned in and kissed me. "Toni, you are brilliant. Let's get the van and your car. We can pick up at least 10 people...that's two or three families who won't be alone. Marissa-"

"I'll spread the word and send others out after you. We'll show them what Chicago hospitality is like." Marissa's smile was the first genuine one in hours. She reached for the phone.

Gary bustled me out the door and kissed me again, only letting go of my hand as we separated to our vehicles.

"Hey, Toni, on the way back, can you get some more of that cucumber stuff you left in my shower? It's really soothing. I think folks could use that at a time like this."

I grinned. "You bet."

~o~

end

~o~


End file.
